To Keep You

Eight: Chaya

As the hours passed and I remained hidden beneath the bed, I felt so alone and yet in so much in pain. It was dull and crept throughout my body. I wondered if perhaps I was abducted by a cult of Nazis who had performed tests or even operations upon my body as I laid unconscious and at the mercy of their butchering hands. 

There was no clock in the room, yet I knew it was nearing evening for the bull frogs were beginning to sing, and for once, I was thankful for their annoying chorus. For my body may be small enough to squeeze underneath the bed. However, to truly fit underneath it's metal frame, I was forced to fold myself in half. My chest was pressed firmly into the tops of my thighs, while my legs were tucked underneath my butt. I folded my arms out in front of my body and rested my chin upon them. For the first hour or so, this position was uncomfortable but manageable. But now, hours later, my legs were riddled with cramps, and my butt has long been numb.

Nevertheless, I knew climbing out from underneath here even after Malachi left was not acceptable. If I were to escape from underneath here and he were to return, he would assume I was beginning to surrender or perhaps even in the false sense, trust him. But I don't and never will. Therefore, why should I give him that false sense of hope? He doesn't deserve it, fake or real.

Call me hatful, jealous, and even vain, I do not care for if I can't have hope then why should he? Where was the hope when the plane crashed? Where was the hope when the water overtook us? And where was the hope when my Oliver's heart stopped beating? Where was it!?

As the war began to rage once more within the walls of my narrowed mind, the door to the shed creaked open, and a large shadow slipped into the darkened room. From where I laid underneath the bed, I could not make out to whom had dared to enter my newfound prison but even an idiot wouldn't have to guess much to assume who has sought me out once more.

"Still hiding, I see." Malachi mumbled as his gruff form approached the bed.

The closer he came, the further I wanted to back away, but if I moved any further, I would find myself out from underneath the bed. So, with narrowed eyes, I remained and watched ever so carefully as his shoes approached my safe heaven.

To both my shock and horror, he bent down upon one knee and gently lifted the blanket in which lung off the bed and was shielding my body from his view. His beautiful eyes were filled with happiness as they found my own, and he offered his hand forward.

"Come on out now, dinner is ready, and it would be a shame for it to spoil before your lovely lips had a chance to taste it."

As if I had shifted and taken the form of a cat, I peeled my lips back and bared my teeth at the man, "I'm not hungry."

It was a lie, one that was only punishing myself for as the words left my tongue, my stomach growled loudly, obviously not pleased with the words that have left my lips. Truthfully, I'm so hungry my stomachs eating my backbone. But I would rather rip my own teeth out with a pair of rusty pliers than eat food from the enemy. For that is what he is, and I know better than to eat food from the hands of those who have stripped me of my freedom and who has caged me like an animal.

If my anger truly is a beast, then it wanted nothing more than to take control and rip this infuriating man to pieces.

Upon my words flowing into his ears, Malachi's eyes hardened, and he stood. I watched as the blanket fell to the ground, blocking my view from his feet. Within moments, he disappeared, and I could no longer hear his footsteps nor see him. I began to thrash my head around, desperate to locate his body, but my ears nor my eyes could find his body. I nearly thought he had somehow escaped the room without my knowledge when two hands as cold as ice grasped my ankles and jerked me out from underneath the bed just as a scream fled from my lungs.